


a fading trail of you

by vindice



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Heartache, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Nostalgia, Reunions, Sad and Sweet, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: Tsuna left Namimori ten years ago and never looked back.(Even if he did.)





	a fading trail of you

**Author's Note:**

> [✿](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ef_Mmevd8dg)
> 
> The McDonald’s drive-thru to get something for Tsuna to eat, which was what this was actually inspired by, will have to be left for another WIP.
> 
> How can someone deviate _that_ hard, ikr?
> 
> It’s six minus twenty am so have this and just- [ _flops down to sleep_ ]

The car ride is quiet in a way it has never been before between them. The air feels dense, the acrid smell of anxiousness enough to choke a lesser being, and his ears are ringing with white noise, not even a nudge of his intuition to guide him through this.

It’s not uncomfortable, or awkward, just heavy. As long as they make it out unscathed, without harming each other in a way that matters, Tsuna supposes that’s fine.

He looks out the window and watches buildings fade, a vague sense of detachment in his mind and his chest, fingers numb. Life in slow motion through foggy lenses, cotton in his mouth. In a far left corner of his mind, he recognizes the tell-tale sound of hands tightening their grip around the leather of the steering wheel.

He tells himself he hates that sound, ignores how it makes his needy Omega settle down a bit under his skin, relax over the familiarity it brings.

Nightlife in Hong Kong is totally different yet alike to Namimori, he thinks not for the first time. Hong Kong is always busy even in the calmest nights, a contrast to Namimori’s quiet dusk where not even the foolest soul used to be out past Hibari’s curfew. It has little parts of Tsuna’s past as well: quirks people show in the dancefloor or across the street, a certain inflection in scathing words, the shade of the grass when the morning dew graces it.

Not just Hong Kong, though. Tsuna knows it is not the places he’s been to in the past decade that trill in remembrance. It is him, actually. He’s the one whose mind always connects sounds with things that should be there, like a phantom grip around his throat.

Tsuna loves the city, even if his is a temporary stay. The bright lights and loud places, the way the city whispers and sings, the warm breeze, the danger buzzing in the asphalt. All of them are a reminder to him. It never really stops being breathtaking on a personal level, and that’s what really caught him here, some of the things that made him want to linger a little longer.

And look at where it landed him.

To think it was his lack of suppressants that made him visible after all this time. Rather anticlimactic, if someone asks him.

He thinks, _you should be in Brazil, in a mission with Lal. Or Iceland helping Verde. You’re supposed to be in Italy._

“You shouldn’t be here,” is all Tsuna says, unable to bear the deafening silence any longer.

There is resolution in his tone, a backbone they both know had and at the same time hadn’t been there the last time they truly saw each other, and that neither of them acknowledges out loud.

_I’m not going back,_ booms in the small vehicle without needing to be spoken.

And he won’t. Tsuna left Namimori on a Tuesday night; a mundane, uneventful day in which he just realized he didn’t _want_ to stay, even if he did. He left ten years ago and never looked back, not for his mother or his hand-picked friends, and certainly not for—

_Alpha, my Alpha!_

–the organization that wanted to chain him to a throne tainted by blood.

They wanted someone they could control, and what was better than the last heir being civilian? The last heir _being Omega._

Unfortunately for them, Tsuna has never been any conventional Omega, as much as they had restrained him.

His mother got it, he knows. It hurt her at the time, but Tsuna knows she understood better than anyone else what it was to be somewhere you didn’t want to. That’s why she left her childhood memories too, because she had wanted a family but of her own volition and a place to call home, and she found it.

She met Iemitsu, her true mate, in a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and she settled in Namimori and created the family she so much wished for. Tsuna will always mourn making her realize that as much as it was _hers_ , it didn’t mean it was _his_. Never regret, because he is his mother’s son before anything else, but certainly lament.

Nothing will ever compare to his freedom.

He had had help, of course. One doesn’t truly vanish from the mafia’s radar so easily, least of all with an Arcobaleno tailing their trail.

And who better than the god of disguise, the Man with the Iron Hat himself?

Which brings them here, because if Reborn finally caught up to him after being both under his nose and off his radar for so long,—or as off as anyone being tracked by his former tutor can be—then it means Kawahira felt it was time for an intervention.

So here they are.

It’s not a conspiracy against him, he knows. Intellectually, he understands the world isn’t out to get him. Kawahira, maybe. But he is aware the being only ever messes with him if he knows something Tsuna doesn’t.

“Look at me when you’re talking,” Reborn says through gritted teeth. From the reflection of the window Tsuna can swear his elbows are unnoticeably shaking. With barely contained rage, no doubt. Tsuna doesn’t dare to sniff the air, lest he let go of his restrain.

Tsuna turns. He looks at him, at the sharp jaw and the way the muscle near his ear is straining from the abuse. He says, “Stop the car.”

Reborn glares at Tsuna briefly, a low rumble forming in his chest. He has the kind of expression that screams murder before said act happens, and Tsuna wants to bare his neck, wants to reach out and smooth the lines of his scowl with his fingers.

He doesn’t. At his steady, rebellious gaze and unaffected countenance, Reborn gives in and pulls into the nearest side street, which just so happens to be almost engulfed in the dark with little to no lamp posts.

Because that isn’t suspicious at all.

Tsuna doesn’t roll his eyes. He doesn’t have the energy to do so. Instead he looks at the board and tries to regain his composure, to soothe his Omega with borrowed calm from his flames. Without the tell-tale vibrations on the road, Tsuna can feel the shaking of his hands and there’s no doubt Reborn can smell the _anger_ and _defeat,_ but also the _expectation_ bubbling in his chest.

God, he’s such a mess.

“Look at me,” Reborn says through gritted teeth. Tsuna wants to punch him, wants to make him bleed a little, to taste that blood. But he also wants to bury his face into his neck, to take into the long known soothing mix of smoke and mint and coffee from a closer distance, to scent him back. It’s been _so long._ He wants to keen, too, because Reborn’s tired sigh as he scrubs his face lets out the exhaustion of his bones, years of chasing after a ghost catching up to him, to them. He wants to make it better when the hitman puts his head against the steering wheel for a moment before turning to look at him, and with a gentle tone disguises his question, because Reborn has never used an Alpha command on him. He _asks_ , “Tsuna, look at me.”

( _Please, look at me, look at me. I missed you. I miss you. Talk to me._ )

Tsuna holds back the sad, pathetic whimper stuck in his throat. He doesn’t cry, but he knows he wears his heart on his sleeve, reflecting off his eyes. Still, he does as asked because he owes it to him. After all this wild goose chase that’s the least he can do for Reborn.

And Reborn looks back, _really_ looks at him, as eager as Tsuna drinks in the hitman’s sight. Take in the details of each other, how much they have changed. Tsuna knows his eyes are burning molten gold because Reborn’s usually dark and lovely ones are a bright crimson red, and _lord_ does he whine low in his throat this time.

_Alpha, Alpha. Please, please, please. Don’t hate me._

Reborn undoes their seatbelts in a quick movement, and in a heartbeat Tsuna has been pulled into his lap, both hunching a little so they don’t hit their heads on the ceiling of the car.

They don’t lose time, they have already lost too much, and Tsuna allows himself _just this once_ even if he knows that promise is a lie.

Reborn makes a strangled noise and buries his nose in Tsuna’s throat as he pulls him close, fangs scrapping rough and lovingly the side of his neck, right over the unmarked bonding spot, and Tsuna melts into his arms, hands coming to sink into the smoky strands. It’s not clear who sobs first. Tsuna bites his lip until it bleeds and gives him an excuse for the tears now falling in Reborn’s hair.

_Alpha my Alpha. You’re here. I missed you, I missed you._

They haven’t fixed anything. Nothing is fine, but they’re here, and they have each other.

They’re not okay, but they will be. That’s more than enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. Reborn and Tsuna are true mates. Yup. Reborn never gave up on him. Yep. Tsuna never stopped loving him.
> 
> Yes, Tsuna’s been using suppressants. He only uses them when Kawahira isn’t around, so that he can conceal himself. but that still makes it quite a bit of a time, and yes, for that long he’s been using them. But after having his flames sealed? It was a walk through the park.
> 
> Maybe some day I’ll tell you guys their story and why Tsuna left, who knows~


End file.
